


If I Could Dream Long Enough

by Dont_Stop_Larry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, I cried writing this, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sad, Sad Ending, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:49:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_Stop_Larry/pseuds/Dont_Stop_Larry
Summary: Louis lost Harry, and then he lost his Home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys!  
> First of all, I wanted to say I'm sorry in advance, this fic is sad all the way through, and I've done the one thing I swore I'd never do in a fic, but it just fit the storyline in my head - it had to happen. If it makes you feel better, I cried my eyes out writing this.
> 
> Thank you to my betas Mary and Chloe for suffering through this with me and helping me articulate exactly what I wanted to do with this story. 
> 
> Based on Ghost of You by 5SOS
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> L xx

_ Here I am waking up, still can’t sleep on your side _

_ There’s your coffee cup, the lipstick stain fades with time _

_ If I can dream long enough, you’d tell me I’d be just fine _

_ I’ll be just fine … _

Louis woke up tangled in the sheets once again, the digital clock blinking 2:02AM at him from the other side of the room. Louis swallowed hard, curling up into a ball on the left side of the bed and turning away from the cold, empty right side. Even now, months later, it still felt weird not to have someone sleeping on that side. Sometimes, when he was half awake in the mornings, he almost thought he could feel him there, inches away, his body heat warming the bed like a furnace, hear him breathing deeply and letting out a little whine with each exhale, smell him – the mixture of soap, sweat, and vanilla had always been one of Louis’ favorite things.

 

After laying there for what seemed like hours, but was really only a few agonizing minutes, Louis sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. Sitting up hurt. Standing up hurt even more. He didn’t want to move – he wished he didn’t have to, but the pain was too great, and if he stayed where he was, he would surely be crushed by it. He walked around the bed to the other side, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and dug carefully through it, sighing with relief when he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the small candle, the wick almost down to the stub. This was the last one – once upon a time, that drawer had been full of nothing but candles of all shapes and sizes, and it broke his heart to know that there were no more - but he needed it right now. He clutched it in his hand, walking over to his dresser in the dim light from the moon outside and searching around in his sock drawer. He finally closed the drawer, flicking his long abandoned lighter to light the candle, and with that, he made his way through the dark, deserted house, the flame flickering on the walls.

 

When he reached the kitchen, he set the candle on the scrubbed wooden table and went to the liquor cabinet. He had emptied it a long time ago, giving every ounce of alcohol he owned to friends or just throwing it out, but there was still one bottle left. He hadn’t opened it in months; he’d been doing so well, but tonight, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He needed to forget, and this was the only way he knew to make that happen. Reaching for his one remaining shot glass – all the others had been broken and tossed – he sat down hard in a chair, pouring himself a shot and staring into the low burning flame.

 

*

**~ April 21, 2014 ~**

Louis walked along the pathway towards his new home, shielding his eyes from the mist of rain. He’d spent all day stuck in the studio and as much as he loved writing songs, he wanted to spend a good bit of time away. He needed time to think, time to have experiences and stories worth telling. He’d left Harry alone in their house, surrounded by boxes upon boxes of their shared possessions, which he knew he’d have to help go through when he got home. As much as he dreaded unpacking, the thought of spending time with Harry doing something to further their relationship made it seem less tedious, and he quickened his pace, just wanting to kiss his boy and see about ordering some take-away that they could eat on the floor like proper young adults.

 

Louis finally reached the place and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a shiny new key and inserting it into the lock. He walked in, rubbing the rain out of his eyes and toeing off his shoes as he shut the door behind him.

 

“Harry, where are y- holy shit.”

 

Louis looked up and then around in awe. There were no boxes, like there had been that morning – instead, the creamy couch that he and Harry had picked out together a month ago was set up between two cozy chairs that they’d brought from their own apartments. The coffee table was centered perfectly on the soft, plum colored rug, and the light from the wall-mounted TV was reflecting off the many pictures now adorning their previously boring walls. Louis saw a curly head poke up over the top of the couch, green eyes crinkling as Harry caught sight of him.

Louis stood there, speechless, as Harry brushed off his knees and hurried towards him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“I know you said you wanted to sort through everything, but I know how long and taxing that was going to be and Niall and Liam were free today … do you like it?” Harry asked, his hands twisting in front of him. Louis took one last look around and then covered the distance between himself and his boyfriend in three long strides, cupping his face and placing a well-earned kiss onto Harry’s lips.

 

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Louis said, pecking Harry’s lips several times. Harry sighed into his mouth and put his forehead against Louis’, which made Louis blush for no reason at all.

 

“Just wanted to do something nice for you, Lou. You deserve the best, always,” Harry mumbled, and Louis let his eyes slip shut momentarily, enjoying the sensation of Harry’s soft thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones. His eyes opened again as he felt Harry backing away from him, his trailing his fingers gently down his arms and reaching for his hands. Louis let himself be pulled forward towards the center of the room, between the coffee table and the TV, which he now realized was the source of a soft, classical music piece that he vaguely recognized. “Dance with me?” Harry asked, and who was Louis to deny Harry this moment after everything he’d done that day?

 

Louis let Harry pull them close and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, looking up at him with what he knew was a disgustingly fond smile, but he couldn’t help it. Harry made him feel all warm and giddy inside, even after they’d been dating for nearly four years. There was just something about him that did funny things to Louis, but he wouldn’t trade what he had with Harry for anything.

 

He let his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder and felt Harry’s hand settle comfortably on his waist, his fingers tracing small patterns on the sliver of skin between his pants and the bottom of his shirt. The soft light of the lamps and the swell of the music in the background made Louis feel safe, happy … at home. It was a while before he looked back up at Harry, but when he did, he couldn’t stop. He drank it all in, Harry’s wavy hair falling into his green eyes, his usually pale skin sun kissed from their vacation, and the dimples forming near-craters in his cheeks. He was perfect.

 

“What?” Harry asked, puzzled, and Louis just laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

 

“Just thinking of how lucky I am. Anyone could be here with you right now, but you chose me, and I love you so much.”

 

Harry’s cheeks turned the shade of pink that Louis loved the most as he looked away bashfully. “Love you too, Lou. Always will.”

 

“Always.” Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s again and then stepped back, smiling. “You gonna show me the rest of the house?”

 

Harry grinned and nodded eagerly, reaching out for Louis’ hand. Louis didn’t hesitate in taking it. This was it, he thought. This was the start of forever.

 

*

The first shot had burned more than Louis thought it would, but then again, it had been a while since he’d properly drank alcohol. His eyes were closed now, the flame making the inside of his eyelids look orange. Louis took in a deep breath, trying to get the burning in his throat to stop, but instead, it intensified as his senses were overloaded with the scent of vanilla. He opened his eyes, feeling tears stinging in them, and swallowed hard. Picking up the candle in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other, Louis made his way slowly into the main room, settling himself on the couch and placing the drink and the candle on the coffee table.

 

He just sat there for a while, not moving or drinking or doing anything, until the silence became unbearable and his breaths came shorter. Louis reached for the TV remote and turned on the Classical Music channel, turning the volume down as the sounds of strings and woodwinds filled the room. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it did numb the pain a little. Or maybe that was the alcohol. He could never be too sure.

 

Louis let himself sink into the soft couch cushions, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He stared into space until he felt the tears coursing silently down his cheeks, and then he reached for the bottle, pouring out a second and third shot and taking them down quickly, now almost relishing how they stung. He deserved the pain.

 

*

**~ December 24, 2015 ~**

 

“Hazzaaaaa … m’gettin’ old, aren’t I?” Louis slurred, taking a small puff from what was left of the cigarette between his fingers, and Harry rolled his eyes at him, brushing his hair away from his face.

 

“Nah, you’re not old,” Harry said back, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis giggled and curled up, trying to protect himself.

 

“Noooooo … 24 is old. I’m … imma … old man.” Louis’ words were punctuated by hiccups and he shivered, only then realizing how cold he was, despite the roaring fire and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Harry reached over, and Louis felt a sudden warmth envelop him as Harry pulled him into his arms. He was surprised that he still fit into Harry’s lap, but Harry was a big gangly giant now, and Louis had long since accepted that he’d always be smaller than his boyfriend. Either way, it made for excellent cuddling moments like these.

 

“If you insist. But you’re my old man, and I’ll love you till you’re old and wrinkled and begging me to fetch you another sandwich cause you don’t wanna get off the couch,” Harry said softly, and Louis felt his lips in his hair. He turned his face up and captured them with his own, and Harry seemed to melt into the couch, taking Louis with him as their kiss intensified, tongues tangling amidst the soft moans. When Louis finally managed to pull away, he buried his head in Harry’s neck, feeling suddenly sleepy.

 

“Mmmm … tired, Hazza. Take me to bed?” He could feel Harry shiver as his breath ghosted over his neck. Harry chuckled, and Louis felt it shake his whole body.

 

“Get up, you lazy arse, you can certainly walk yourself up the stairs. I’ve gotta clean up your mess.” Harry’s tone was serious, but his face gave him away. He was all crinkles and dimples and Louis smiled sleepily, pushing his lips out in a pout before pulling himself out of Harry’s arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what happened, but one moment he was intending to stand, and the next, he was in Harry’s arms, feeling Harry’s laughter.

 

“Alright, so maybe you can’t walk yourself upstairs. I’ve got you, babe.”

 

Louis just nodded, feeling very content tucked against Harry’s warm, firm chest as they ascended the stairs into the softly lit hallway. He suddenly felt a softness beneath him as Harry laid him on their bed and began to undress him. He started with the socks, and Louis wiggled his now cold toes in the air, teasing. Harry only smiled as he got Louis’ pants and shirt off, leaving Louis feeling slightly exposed in just his boxers. He had no idea being this drunk would make him self-conscious.

 

“Don’t look, Haz, m’practically naked,” Louis mumbled, his face pressed into his pillow.

 

“As if I haven’t seen it a hundred times before,” Harry joked, poking Louis’ side once more. As Louis curled up, trying to keep warm, he felt Harry pull the blankets over him, tucking him in nicely on his side of the bed. “I’ll be right back, love. Gonna get you some water and some Advil, yeah?”

 

Louis whined at the loss of Harry’s touch, the room spinning a little as he tried to settle himself in. He really shouldn’t have had that much to drink, but it was his birthday … he had wanted to indulge a little and Harry hadn’t stopped him. His grin had only grown wider the more drunk Louis became, and Louis loved making his baby smile.

 

He heard a shuffle and then saw a glass and two white pills set down on his nightstand. “Drink up, babe. Don’t want you to feel too shitty tomorrow, we’ve got Christmas here, and then we’re driving to my mum’s.”

 

Louis hummed and gulped down the Advil, reaching out for Harry with grabby hands as he made for the door. Harry turned back around and crouched in front of Louis, their eyes level. Louis felt Harry’s lips on his forehead and let his eyes slip closed. “Love you, H. Always take such good care of me.”

 

“Anything for my boy.”

 

*

Back then, it hadn’t really seemed to bother Harry when Louis got drunk or high or anything, really. He took it in stride and seemed to think it was funny. But as time went on, if Louis had paid attention, he would have seen the strain, the annoyance, in those green eyes that were always so full of love. If he had listened, he would have heard the vaguely clipped tone Harry’s voice took on, replacing the soft and kind one Louis was used to. He would have seen the slight rigidity to his movements when they were together, in complete opposition with the ease in which they’d moved around each other since the day they’d met. But no. He’d been drunk, and when he was drunk, he felt happy, and that was all he needed.

 

Louis felt icy cold at the thought. He knew where it had all started. It had been that night, before that night, even. He’d felt sad – and his situation with Harry was nothing short of tragic, even if they did love each other despite being nearly forced apart on multiple occasions – and he’d want to forget, to numb that sadness. So he’d go out and drink, or stay home and drink, or smoke a whole pack until he calmed down. On occasion, he’d even skip over to Zayn’s for a midnight joint. And from there, it had just escalated. Whenever Louis would feel the weight of his and Harry’s situation, he’d go to a bar – he’d even had to drag along Eleanor or some parade of girls along with him at times – or to the nearest gas station to pick up a pack of smokes or to Zayn’s to blaze up on his balcony until they were too high to remember what had made them sad in the first place.

 

It had been this that had lost him his boy. Harry had been so good about it, finding it funny at first, and even when it started wearing on him as well as Louis, he hadn’t said anything. He’d helped Louis to bed, he’d given him medicine, he’d cleaned up more of Louis’ vomit than Louis cared to admit. He had been the most caring person in the world, and the one time that he wanted to talk about something serious, Louis had gone and ruined everything, and he had no chance of fixing it now.

 

*

**~ October 5, 2017 ~**

“Lou, can we talk?” Harry’s voice reached his ears, but Louis didn’t look up from the cement beneath his feet, where a small pile of cigarette butts was now starting to form. He’d gotten home from his most recent ‘outing’ with Eleanor just to find out that Harry had to go out with his new girlfriend of the week, as he’d started referring to them as. Five minutes after Harry had left the house with promises that he’d be home in time to cuddle Louis to bed, Louis had gotten in his car and driven to the nearest drug store, buying more than his fair share of smokes and heading immediately home with one already between his lips.

 

Harry had gotten home an hour ago, but where Louis would usually go in to greet him, he’d stayed where he was, not even looking around when Harry called his name softly through the open window next to the balcony. But there was something in Harry’s tone that made Louis look up eventually, putting out his cigarette and lighting another before turning to face his boyfriend.

 

“Yeah, sure, course, Hazza. Come sit with me,” Louis said, coughing slightly as Harry made his way slowly out onto the balcony. He didn’t sit, seeming to prefer standing against the wall, and Louis didn’t push it. He just pressed his lips together and waited for Harry to speak.

 

“Can you put that out … please?” Harry asked, and Louis found himself immediately annoyed. Harry had this habit of hating whenever he was smoking or drinking or doing literally anything, for that matter, and it was starting to test Louis’ patience. But he knew Harry didn’t like the smell, so he did as he was asked.

 

“There you go. You’ve got me all to yourself now, yeah?” Louis said in a joking tone, but Harry didn’t seem to think it was very funny.

 

“This is just some big joke to you, isn’t it? I bet you don’t even know what I want to talk to you about, do you?” Harry said in an exasperated tone, and Louis rolled his eyes – an automatic reaction that didn’t make Harry any less annoyed, if his expression was anything to judge by. He stood up, hating the feeling of being talked down to, even though he knew that wasn’t what Harry was doing. Harry had a right to be annoyed with him. If Louis were Harry, he’d be annoyed with himself. But he couldn’t stop.

 

“It’s not a joke. I just don’t know why you’re so worked up,” Louis said finally, cocking his hip to one side and folding his arms across his chest. Harry’s nose wrinkled slightly as the wind picked up, pushing the smell of too many cigarettes his way.

 

“I’m worked up because you’re … you need help, Lou. I hate seeing you like this. I thought you were getting better, getting away from this shit.”

 

Harry hardly ever swore, which is what really clued Louis in to the fact that Harry was serious. This wasn’t one of those situations where Louis could get out of it with a kiss and swipe of his tongue along Harry’s jaw. This was much bigger than that.

 

“Well, I was, but that was before Jeff decided that it was a good idea to parade you around with a lineup of girls who couldn’t even get you if they tried.” He couldn’t really read the look on Harry’s face at his words, but he wasn’t speaking, so Louis kept going. “I can’t do this anymore, Haz. I hate having to hide, I hate having to pretend I’m someone I’m not. Every time I’m out there, all I want is to be with you, but we’re stuck in this vicious cycle and I just want to forget. I want to forget everything.”

 

“Right, and you think drinking yourself into a coma or smoking till you pass out is the way to do that, hmm?” Harry spat, his voice filled with a venom that Louis had never heard there before. He reached out to touch Harry’s arm, but Harry pulled away, walking into the house and leaving Louis hurrying to keep up.

 

“Wait, wait. Hold on. So you’re saying that you don’t like my coping method? It’s the only reason I’m still here, Harry,” Louis retorted, closing the door behind him. When he turned to face Harry again, his heart dropped at the look of horror and sheer brokenness on his boyfriend’s face. He hurried forward, realizing what his words had sounded like. “No, no, baby, that’s not what I … you know I love you, right? You’ve got to know that.”

 

Harry nodded, his beautiful green eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. “Yeah. I know you do. And I love you. But I just … I can’t stay here. I can’t …” Harry choked on his words, and Louis’ chest was tightening with every second that passed, fearing the worst. Harry took a shaky breath and leveled a look at Louis, one of such intensity that Louis had to look away. “I can’t be with you if this is who you are now.”

 

The silence in the room was loud, so loud that Louis felt suffocated by it. It took a few seconds for him to truly register what Harry was saying, and then he felt his heart break. “W-what? You … you can’t mean that. Harry, please …”

 

Harry put up a hand to stop him, and Louis fell silent, feeling like his throat was tearing itself apart to keep his sobs inside. “I love Louis Tomlinson, and this person before me … is not the man I fell in love with all those years ago. And I won’t torture myself by watching him slip away more and more every day.”

 

Harry turned away, and Louis saw that there was already a bag sitting by the door. Harry had known this would happen, he had planned for it, and that just made Louis hurt even more. He practically ran after Harry, his words coming out jumbled and rushed.

 

“Harry … Haz, no, don’t. We can talk about this. I’m still here, I’m still me. Nothing has changed.”

 

“But that’s just it, Louis. Everything has changed. We’re older, we’re different people, we deal with what we’ve been dealt in different ways, and I can’t sit back and watch you destroy what’s left of you. I won’t do it.”

 

Louis found himself reaching for Harry’s wrist, feeling his fingers wrap around the spot where the anchor tattoo was inked into his skin. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Harry walk away from this.

 

“You can’t go … not after – after everything we’ve been through. We’ve fought too hard for you to give up on us.”

 

Harry pulled his bag over his shoulder and released himself gently from Louis’ grasp, and Louis just stood there, arms limp at his sides, as Harry opened their front door.

 

“I’m not giving up. I’m setting myself free. You should do the same.”

 

He was gone before Louis could say another word, and for a long time after the echo of the front door closing had faded into nothing, Louis stood there, staring at the closed wooden door and letting the truth finally sink in. Harry was gone.

 

*

The fourth shot brought up the memories, and the fifth shot washed them away. Louis felt dizzy, the room going slightly fuzzy as he reached for the bottle, his hand shaking a little. He hadn’t had this much alcohol in so long – he’d become a bit of a lightweight. He took down a sixth and smacked his lips together, the soft lilt of the classical music filling the silence of the empty house. It made Louis feel just a little less lonely, but nothing would ever fill that void completely.

 

He remembered clearly what had happened after Harry had left him. He’d emptied half the liquor cabinet and then cried hysterically over the phone to Niall until Niall came barging into the house. He’d gotten Louis cleaned up and put to bed, refusing to talk to him until he was sober. Niall was sensible – he knew just as well as Louis that Louis never really could grasp the concept of anything while even the slightest bit buzzed, and Louis had been trashed when Niall had gotten there. They’d talked for hours, and eventually, Louis understood. He’d known all along, of course, that what he was doing wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t going to help him at all, but once he’d started, he’d found it the only way to keep the pain at bay.

 

But what had once been his solace, his way to get away, caused him more pain, because it was associated with the worst thing that had ever happened to him. So he’d stopped, just like that. He had given all of his alcohol to Niall, whose Irish family was more than happy to take his extra stash off his hands, and he’d thrown away every last pack of cigarettes he could find. His lighters had gone in the trash, other than one to light candles in case of an emergency, and his stash of weed had been given to Zayn, who smoked a lot less frequently than Louis did, but who also didn’t communicate with Louis too much anymore. Louis knew it would be safe in his hands.

 

Louis looked blearily at the flame of the candle, which was starting to dim slightly. It made the ache in his chest grow, but he refused to look away from it. He deserved this pain, and he was going to force himself to feel every second of it, even if it killed him.

 

*

**~ February 3, 2018 ~**

Louis had been doing so well for so long. He was actually proud of himself, which was something he hadn’t expected during those first few weeks of recovery. But here he was, almost five months clean of alcohol and smoking, and he broke.

 

Being without Harry was something Louis had never really thought about until it became a reality. It was weird, waking up to an empty bed, or going down to a kitchen that wasn’t filled with the smells of Harry’s amazing cooking, or coming home from a day in the studio to a cold, empty house. What he missed most, besides Harry’s actual presence, however, was the smell of vanilla. Their home had always smelled amazing, comfortable and friendly and familiar. Now, it smelled like day old take-away food and the cleaning supplies Louis busted out every time he thought about going out for a smoke.

 

After Harry left, and Louis had managed to pick himself up and drag himself out of his depressed state. He started thinking hard, and finally made the decision to get clean and sober - getting rid of what made Harry leave was his first priority. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he got himself together and started being the man Harry remembered, Harry might come back to him.

 

At least, that’s what he’d told himself, and Niall and Zayn, when giving away all he owned of the stuff that had ruined everything. And he kept that train of thought, even when his mind wouldn’t stop torturing him with reminders of what he’d done and all he wanted was a drink, even when he felt dizzy and considered a cigarette to center himself, or some weed to make it all float away. He kept clean and refused to do otherwise. He would get better. He would become himself again, for Harry. For them.

 

And now almost five months had come and gone, and Louis hadn’t heard a single word from Harry. According to all the other boys, he hadn’t contacted them either, instead choosing to focus on his solo career, which was booming, considering that he’d just finished up one tour and was starting another. The fact that Harry was MIA with all of them didn’t make Louis feel any better.

 

He’d broken that night. Five months, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d found an old bottle of bourbon packed away in a cupboard and he’d downed half of it before realizing what he’d done. His hands shaking and his head spinning, Louis had picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d been trying to reach for almost half a year, and for the first time since Harry had walked out their front door, someone answered the phone.

 

“Louis?”

 

Louis whimpered at the sound of Harry’s voice. He had almost forgotten how much he loved it … how much he missed it. He sighed and settled on the floor next to the couch, the bottle of bourbon left in the kitchen where he couldn’t see it and couldn’t be tempted.

 

“Louis, are you there?” Harry’s voice bubbled out of the speaker, and Louis suddenly remembered that he had to speak words if he wanted Harry to listen to him.

 

“Hazza … m’surprised you picked up … doin’ a pretty bang up job of ignorin’ me, yeah?” Louis said, trying to sound like his usual sarcastic self, but his slurred words and broken voice didn’t really help.

 

“Are you drunk?” Harry’s voice was resigned, but Louis sensed a bit of an accusatory tone, and he had to set Harry straight.

 

“Suppose … but I’ve been good for you, Haz. I’ve been soooooooo good. No drinks … no smokes, not even weed … five months without them, all for you. I jus’ couldn’t take it anymore. Missed you too much … wanted it to stop.”

 

Harry’s voice seemed to soften at his next words, but Louis could have been imagining things. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “You quit?”

 

“Yeah, tried. Guess I fucked that up tonight, didn’t I? Thought you … you’d come home to me if I … if I wasn’t …” Louis couldn’t finish his sentence, too ashamed of himself in the moment, and he slumped against the side of the couch, tears filling his eyes. Even with the alcohol in his system, it still hurt. Everything hurt. “Just want it to stop hurting, H-Haz. Want it to end.”

 

“Fuck. Louis, where are you?” Harry’s voice was concerned, but Louis wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t said anything other than the truth.

 

“M’at home. Our – I mean, my house. Never left, ya see? It’s lonely without you.”

 

“Don’t leave, okay? I’m … I’m coming home.”

 

 Louis let the phone fall into his lap, a dopey smile spreading across his face, and he said to the empty room, “My boy’s coming home.” That was the last thing he remembered.

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes next, he felt sheets beneath him and something soft covering his bare chest. He didn’t remember taking his shirt off, but he must have … unless …

 

He sat upright so quickly that his head throbbed, and his stomach rolled, but he took in a few deep breaths to steady himself and then looked up. Harry was there, his Harry, sitting in an old chair that neither of them had wanted to throw away. Louis had kept it in their room because there was no space downstairs, and it had remained empty since Harry had left. But now he was back, snoring softly as his head rested against the side of it. Louis cleared his throat and Harry jolted awake, pushing his hair out of his face. Louis felt a strange mixture of emotions – happiness, because he’d missed Harry more than he could ever say in words, slightly nauseous, though that could have been because of the alcohol, and terror. Harry had refused to even answer a text after he’d left, so if he was here now, it was serious, and Louis wasn’t sure if he could take any more hurt.

 

Harry stood and walked slowly over, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Louis, and Louis pulled himself up against his headboard, pulling the blanket around him and shivering.

 

“You’re alright, yeah?” Harry asked finally, and Louis shrugged. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling right now, but having Harry here was good. It made him feel less empty inside. Harry moved closer to him, and Louis could see his bottom lip shaking. “I … I thought you were going to … I just had to make sure you were okay. I should go.”

 

He stood up to leave, but Louis reached for him, his fingertips just barely catching hold of Harry’s sleeve, and Harry turned back. Louis swallowed, hoping the right words would come out of his mouth when he spoke.

 

“I, umm … I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry for everything. I did everything wrong for us, didn’t I? I was a fucking idiot and I thought that I could solve my problems by other methods instead of talking to you … I should have talked to you. I should have known that what we had was the best we could get, and I should have been grateful that I had you when I did. I know I can never fix what I broke, but I tried. For so many months, I tried to be the boy you fell in love with, I tried to find myself again, and I did. Well, tonight was a relapse, but I really did try. Please let me try to make things better.”

 

Louis knew he was babbling, he knew he probably sounded stupid and desperate, but he was just that, and he had to lay it all out on the table for Harry. He had to be completely transparent and honest, and even if that got him a no, it was better than keeping it bottled up.

 

Harry pressed his lips together and sat back down. Louis could see that his jewel green eyes were filled with tears, and it made Louis choke on the lump in his own throat.

 

“Lou, I didn’t know … I thought you might not want me back after what I said to you,” Harry mumbled, tears sliding down his smooth cheeks, and Louis’ breath hitched.

 

“I’ll always want you, Harry. It’s you and me … Louis and Harry … the dream team. You were right when you said those things, I was just too gone to see it then. But I do now, and … if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

 

Harry sniffed. “Been thinking about you all the time. Missed you. Was like part of my heart was missing, but I just couldn’t come back to that. I hated seeing what you were doing to yourself. But I have to apologize to you too. When I left, it was like that was when you needed me the most. Things were getting bad, worse than they’d been in years, and I should have tried to stay and reason with you. I made a mistake, a terrible one, and I’m so sorry. It was the hardest decision I ever made, but I had good intentions, I swear. I wanted us to be like we were and I thought maybe time apart would help, but it just made it worse.” Louis reached out for Harry’s hand, feeling a need to comfort him. Harry squeezed his hand and wiped his tears away. “I … I want this to work. I want us to make this work.” Louis’ eyes widened as Harry nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I want us to make this work,” he repeated, and that was all Louis needed. He threw himself forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s, melting into his arms as Harry’s mouth moved against his, cautions, but familiar and oh so amazing. Louis had almost forgotten what it was like to feel whole, but now he knew.

 

They fell back on the bed, still kissing, and cuddled under the blankets, their foreheads pressed together.

 

“Stay …” Louis whispered, already feeling his eyelids drooping. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, but they had all the time in the world ahead of them now. Harry nodded and kissed him once more, and Louis fell asleep, wrapped in the arms of his boy,  _ I love you _ s whispered into the quiet air.

 

 

When Louis woke up the next morning, the bed was empty, which panicked him slightly, but then his eyes fell to the note on the pillow, and he hurried to unfold it.

 

**Went out to get us breakfast.**

**Be back in a few.**

**Made you some tea.**

**Love you.**

**H xx**

 

Louis smiled and stretched, climbing out of bed and searching around for a shirt. His phone rang then, and he dug it out of his pillows, picking up in slight confusion when he saw Anne’s name on the display. 

 

“Hi, Anne. Umm … what’s going on?” Louis waited and heard some shuffling around and then the sound of sobs in the background, and his heart stopped. Anne’s voice came through his phone, but it was like he already knew.

 

“Lou … It’s Harry.”

 

*

Louis had been crying for quite some time now, but it was only now that he felt the puddle of wet material beneath him and realized that his tears had been steadily dripping onto his chest from his chin. He hiccupped and picked up his phone, shoving the bottle of whiskey away so that he wouldn’t drink any more. He pressed the name at the top of his most recent calls and waited for the tone before speaking.

 

“Hey, Haz. It’s Lou. M’not as drunk as I sound, promise … just hurt too much. Couldn’t take it. The pain … won’t go away now. Never goes away. M’so sorry … sorry I disappointed you again tonight. Always disappointing you.” Louis wiped at his face, but the tears just kept coming, wetting his cheeks and dripping off his nose. “Went out for a bit with Li today. First time since the funeral. He says I look better. Don’t feel better … feel like shit. I … I miss you so much, baby.”

 

Louis’ voice cracked horribly, and a sob tore its way out of his throat. He felt sick, but he wasn’t done. He had to keep talking.

 

“Miss your beautiful voice, miss your hair, miss your laugh, miss your smile. I’m on your last candle. ‘member how you used to keep the drawer full? It was always s-so sweet, and now it’s empty. Just like me.” Louis took in another deep breath, the vanilla scent still filling the room as the candle sputtered. “Wish you were here, H. S’not the same without you.”

 

At that moment, Louis’ ears registered a change in music, and he looked up, seeing the name of what had once been their favorite classical song to dance to. Louis stood up shakily, swaying slightly and moved to the center of the room, his phone clutched to his ear.

 

“It’s our song, Hazza. Dance with me?” Louis closed his eyes and swayed from side to side, and when he opened them again, he saw the room bathed in the golden light of their lamps. He saw the light dancing off the glass picture frames. He smelled pasta cooking in the kitchen. And, right in front of him, he saw Harry, his brown hair curling around his temples, his green eyes bright and full of life. He was smiling as he reached for Louis, and Louis felt the brush of his fingers on his waist. He let his eyes flutter shut.

 

When he opened them again, the room was dark. The candle was barely more than an ember now, and Louis heard the familiar beeping noise from his phone that told him the message was too long and he had been disconnected. He let his hand drop to his side and sat down on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. The house had always been cozy when Harry was there. He made it home, filled with excitement and color and warmth. Now, the house was cold. It would never be home again.

_ So I drown it out like I always do _

_ Dancing through our house with the ghost of you _

_ And I chase it down, with a shot of truth _

_ That my feet don’t dance like they did with you. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending for those who may not want MCD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this one shot originally, it took me up until the very last moment to decide whether I wanted to do MCD or not. With how I felt when listening to the song, I decided that, for the story, it was a necessary end, and that was what I published. However, I have since been considering an alternate ending, the one I was originally going to write, and here it is. If you don't do MCD, you can read this part instead. It's not a happy ending, but it's not a sad one either. It's more of a "we'll be okay eventually" ending. Anyway, hope you like it. More stuff to come super soon - like next week soon, not Louis' version of soon lmao.
> 
> Loads of love xx
> 
> L~

_ Here I am waking up, still can’t sleep on your side _

_ There’s your coffee cup, the lipstick stain fades with time _

_ If I can dream long enough, you’d tell me I’d be just fine _

_ I’ll be just fine … _

 

Louis woke up tangled in the sheets once again, the digital clock blinking 2:02AM at him from the other side of the room. Louis swallowed hard, curling up into a ball on the left side of the bed and turning away from the cold, empty right side. Even now, a little over a year later, it still felt weird not to have someone sleeping on that side. Sometimes, when he was half awake in the mornings, he almost thought he could feel him there, inches away, his body heat warming the bed like a furnace, hear him breathing deeply and letting out a little whine with each exhale, smell him – the mixture of soap, sweat, and vanilla had always been one of Louis’ favorite things.

After laying there for what seemed like hours, but was really only a few agonizing minutes, Louis sat up, swinging his legs out of bed. Sitting up hurt. Standing up hurt even more. He didn’t want to move – he wished he didn’t have to, but the pain was too great, and if he stayed where he was, he would surely be crushed by it. He walked around the bed to the other side, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and dug carefully through it, sighing with relief when he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the small candle, the wick almost down to the stub. This was the last one – once upon a time, that drawer had been full of nothing but candles of all shapes and sizes, and it broke his heart to know that there were no more - but he needed it right now. He clutched it in his hand, walking over to his dresser in the dim light from the moon outside and searching around in his sock drawer. He finally closed the drawer, flicking his long abandoned lighter to light the candle, and with that, he made his way through the dark, deserted house, the flame flickering on the walls.

When he reached the kitchen, he set the candle on the scrubbed wooden table and went to the liquor cabinet. He had emptied it a long time ago, giving every ounce of alcohol he owned to friends or just throwing it out, but there was still one bottle left. He hadn’t opened it in months; he’d been doing so well, but tonight, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He needed to forget, and this was the only way he knew to make that happen. Reaching for his one remaining shot glass – all the others had been broken and tossed – he sat down hard in a chair, pouring himself a shot and staring into the low burning flame.

 

*

**~ April 21, 2014 ~**

Louis walked along the pathway towards his new home, shielding his eyes from the mist of rain. He’d spent all day stuck in the studio and as much as he loved writing songs, he wanted to spend a good bit of time away. He needed time to think, time to have experiences and stories worth telling. He’d left Harry alone in their house, surrounded by boxes upon boxes of their shared possessions, which he knew he’d have to help go through when he got home. As much as he dreaded unpacking, the thought of spending time with Harry doing something to further their relationship made it seem less tedious, and he quickened his pace, just wanting to kiss his boy and see about ordering some take-away that they could eat on the floor like proper young adults.

Louis finally reached the place and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a shiny new key and inserting it into the lock. He walked in, rubbing the rain out of his eyes and toeing off his shoes as he shut the door behind him.

“Harry, where are y- holy shit.”

Louis looked up and then around in awe. There were no boxes, like there had been that morning – instead, the creamy couch that he and Harry had picked out together a month ago was set up between two cozy chairs that they’d brought from their own apartments. The coffee table was centered perfectly on the soft, plum colored rug, and the light from the wall-mounted TV was reflecting off the many pictures now adorning their previously boring walls. Louis saw a curly head poke up over the top of the couch, green eyes crinkling as Harry caught sight of him.

Louis stood there, speechless, as Harry brushed off his knees and hurried towards him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“I know you said you wanted to sort through everything, but I know how long and taxing that was going to be and Niall and Liam were free today … do you like it?” Harry asked, his hands twisting in front of him. Louis took one last look around and then covered the distance between himself and his boyfriend in three long strides, cupping his face and placing a well-earned kiss onto Harry’s lips.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Louis said, pecking Harry’s lips several times. Harry sighed into his mouth and put his forehead against Louis’, which made Louis blush for no reason at all.

“Just wanted to do something nice for you, Lou. You deserve the best, always,” Harry mumbled, and Louis let his eyes slip shut momentarily, enjoying the sensation of Harry’s soft thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones. His eyes opened again as he felt Harry backing away from him, his trailing his fingers gently down his arms and reaching for his hands. Louis let himself be pulled forward towards the center of the room, between the coffee table and the TV, which he now realized was the source of a soft, classical music piece that he vaguely recognized. “Dance with me?” Harry asked, and who was Louis to deny Harry this moment after everything he’d done that day?

Louis let Harry pull them close and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, looking up at him with what he knew was a disgustingly fond smile, but he couldn’t help it. Harry made him feel all warm and giddy inside, even after they’d been dating for nearly four years. There was just something about him that did funny things to Louis, but he wouldn’t trade what he had with Harry for anything.

He let his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder and felt Harry’s hand settle comfortably on his waist, his fingers tracing small patterns on the sliver of skin between his pants and the bottom of his shirt. The soft light of the lamps and the swell of the music in the background made Louis feel safe, happy … at home. It was a while before he looked back up at Harry, but when he did, he couldn’t stop. He drank it all in, Harry’s wavy hair falling into his green eyes, his usually pale skin sun kissed from their vacation, and the dimples forming near-craters in his cheeks. He was perfect.

“What?” Harry asked, puzzled, and Louis just laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“Just thinking of how lucky I am. Anyone could be here with you right now, but you chose me, and I love you so much.”

Harry’s cheeks turned the shade of pink that Louis loved the most as he looked away bashfully. “Love you too, Lou. Always will.”

“Always.” Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s again and then stepped back, smiling. “You gonna show me the rest of the house?”

Harry grinned and nodded eagerly, reaching out for Louis’ hand. Louis didn’t hesitate in taking it. This was it, he thought. This was the start of forever.

 

*

 

The first shot had burned more than Louis thought it would, but then again, it had been a while since he’d properly drank alcohol. His eyes were closed now, the flame making the inside of his eyelids look orange. Louis took in a deep breath, trying to get the burning in his throat to stop, but instead, it intensified as his senses were overloaded with the scent of vanilla. He opened his eyes, feeling tears stinging in them, and swallowed hard. Picking up the candle in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other, Louis made his way slowly into the main room, settling himself on the couch and placing the drink and the candle on the coffee table.

He just sat there for a while, not moving or drinking or doing anything, until the silence became unbearable and his breaths came shorter. Louis reached for the TV remote and turned on the Classical Music channel, turning the volume down as the sounds of strings and woodwinds filled the room. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it did numb the pain a little. Or maybe that was the alcohol. He could never be too sure.

Louis let himself sink into the soft couch cushions, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He stared into space until he felt the tears coursing silently down his cheeks, and then he reached for the bottle, pouring out a second and third shot and taking them down quickly, now almost relishing how they stung. He deserved the pain.

 

*

**~ December 24, 2015 ~**

“Hazzaaaaa … m’gettin’ old, aren’t I?” Louis slurred, taking a small puff from what was left of the cigarette between his fingers, and Harry rolled his eyes at him, brushing his hair away from his face.

“Nah, you’re not old,” Harry said back, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis giggled and curled up, trying to protect himself.

“Noooooo … 24 is old. I’m … imma … old man.” Louis’ words were punctuated by hiccups and he shivered, only then realizing how cold he was, despite the roaring fire and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Harry reached over, and Louis felt a sudden warmth envelop him as Harry pulled him into his arms. He was surprised that he still fit into Harry’s lap, but Harry was a big gangly giant now, and Louis had long since accepted that he’d always be smaller than his boyfriend. Either way, it made for excellent cuddling moments like these.

“If you insist. But you’re my old man, and I’ll love you till you’re old and wrinkled and begging me to fetch you another sandwich cause you don’t wanna get off the couch,” Harry said softly, and Louis felt his lips in his hair. He turned his face up and captured them with his own, and Harry seemed to melt into the couch, taking Louis with him as their kiss intensified, tongues tangling amidst the soft moans. When Louis finally managed to pull away, he buried his head in Harry’s neck, feeling suddenly sleepy.

“Mmmm … tired, Hazza. Take me to bed?” He could feel Harry shiver as his breath ghosted over his neck. Harry chuckled, and Louis felt it shake his whole body.

“Get up, you lazy arse, you can certainly walk yourself up the stairs. I’ve gotta clean up your mess.” Harry’s tone was serious, but his face gave him away. He was all crinkles and dimples and Louis smiled sleepily, pushing his lips out in a pout before pulling himself out of Harry’s arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened, but one moment he was intending to stand, and the next, he was in Harry’s arms, feeling Harry’s laughter.

“Alright, so maybe you can’t walk yourself upstairs. I’ve got you, babe.”

Louis just nodded, feeling very content tucked against Harry’s warm, firm chest as they ascended the stairs into the softly lit hallway. He suddenly felt a softness beneath him as Harry laid him on their bed and began to undress him. He started with the socks, and Louis wiggled his now cold toes in the air, teasing. Harry only smiled as he got Louis’ pants and shirt off, leaving Louis feeling slightly exposed in just his boxers. He had no idea being this drunk would make him self-conscious.

“Don’t look, Haz, m’practically naked,” Louis mumbled, his face pressed into his pillow.

“As if I haven’t seen it a hundred times before,” Harry joked, poking Louis’ side once more. As Louis curled up, trying to keep warm, he felt Harry pull the blankets over him, tucking him in nicely on his side of the bed. “I’ll be right back, love. Gonna get you some water and some Advil, yeah?”

Louis whined at the loss of Harry’s touch, the room spinning a little as he tried to settle himself in. He really shouldn’t have had that much to drink, but it was his birthday … he had wanted to indulge a little and Harry hadn’t stopped him. His grin had only grown wider the more drunk Louis became, and Louis loved making his baby smile.

He heard a shuffle and then saw a glass and two white pills set down on his nightstand. “Drink up, babe. Don’t want you to feel too shitty tomorrow, we’ve got Christmas here, and then we’re driving to my mum’s.”

Louis hummed and gulped down the Advil, reaching out for Harry with grabby hands as he made for the door. Harry turned back around and crouched in front of Louis, their eyes level. Louis felt Harry’s lips on his forehead and let his eyes slip closed. “Love you, H. Always take such good care of me.”

“Anything for my boy.”

 

*

 

Back then, it hadn’t really seemed to bother Harry when Louis got drunk or high or anything, really. He took it in stride and seemed to think it was funny. But as time went on, if Louis had paid attention, he would have seen the strain, the annoyance, in those green eyes that were always so full of love. If he had listened, he would have heard the vaguely clipped tone Harry’s voice took on, replacing the soft and kind one Louis was used to. He would have seen the slight rigidity to his movements when they were together, in complete opposition with the ease in which they’d moved around each other since the day they’d met. But no. He’d been drunk, and when he was drunk, he felt happy, and that was all he needed.

Louis felt icy cold at the thought. He knew where it had all started. It had been that night, before that night, even. He’d felt sad – and his situation with Harry was nothing short of tragic, even if they did love each other despite being nearly forced apart on multiple occasions – and he’d want to forget, to numb that sadness. So he’d go out and drink, or stay home and drink, or smoke a whole pack until he calmed down. On occasion, he’d even skip over to Zayn’s for a midnight joint. And from there, it had just escalated. Whenever Louis would feel the weight of his and Harry’s situation, he’d go to a bar – he’d even had to drag along Eleanor or some parade of girls along with him at times – or to the nearest gas station to pick up a pack of smokes or to Zayn’s to blaze up on his balcony until they were too high to remember what had made them sad in the first place.

It had been this that had lost him his boy. Harry had been so good about it, finding it funny at first, and even when it started wearing on him as well as Louis, he hadn’t said anything. He’d helped Louis to bed, he’d given him medicine, he’d cleaned up more of Louis’ vomit than Louis cared to admit. He had been the most caring person in the world, and the one time that he wanted to talk about something serious, Louis had gone and ruined everything, and he had no chance of fixing it now.

 

*

**~ October 5, 2017 ~**

“Lou, can we talk?” Harry’s voice reached his ears, but Louis didn’t look up from the cement beneath his feet, where a small pile of cigarette butts was now starting to form. He’d gotten home from his most recent ‘outing’ with Eleanor just to find out that Harry had to go out with his new girlfriend of the week, as he’d started referring to them as. Five minutes after Harry had left the house with promises that he’d be home in time to cuddle Louis to bed, Louis had gotten in his car and driven to the nearest drug store, buying more than his fair share of smokes and heading immediately home with one already between his lips.

Harry had gotten home an hour ago, but where Louis would usually go in to greet him, he’d stayed where he was, not even looking around when Harry called his name softly through the open window next to the balcony. But there was something in Harry’s tone that made Louis look up eventually, putting out his cigarette and lighting another before turning to face his boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure, course, Hazza. Come sit with me,” Louis said, coughing slightly as Harry made his way slowly out onto the balcony. He didn’t sit, seeming to prefer standing against the wall, and Louis didn’t push it. He just pressed his lips together and waited for Harry to speak.

“Can you put that out … please?” Harry asked, and Louis found himself immediately annoyed. Harry had this habit of hating whenever he was smoking or drinking or doing literally anything, for that matter, and it was starting to test Louis’ patience. But he knew Harry didn’t like the smell, so he did as he was asked.

“There you go. You’ve got me all to yourself now, yeah?” Louis said in a joking tone, but Harry didn’t seem to think it was very funny.

“This is just some big joke to you, isn’t it? I bet you don’t even know what I want to talk to you about, do you?” Harry said in an exasperated tone, and Louis rolled his eyes – an automatic reaction that didn’t make Harry any less annoyed, if his expression was anything to judge by. He stood up, hating the feeling of being talked down to, even though he knew that wasn’t what Harry was doing. Harry had a right to be annoyed with him. If Louis were Harry, he’d be annoyed with himself. But he couldn’t stop.

“It’s not a joke. I just don’t know why you’re so worked up,” Louis said finally, cocking his hip to one side and folding his arms across his chest. Harry’s nose wrinkled slightly as the wind picked up, pushing the smell of too many cigarettes his way.

“I’m worked up because you’re … you need help, Lou. I hate seeing you like this. I thought you were getting better, getting away from this shit.”

Harry hardly ever swore, which is what really clued Louis in to the fact that Harry was serious. This wasn’t one of those situations where Louis could get out of it with a kiss and swipe of his tongue along Harry’s jaw. This was much bigger than that.

“Well, I was, but that was before Jeff decided that it was a good idea to parade you around with a lineup of girls who couldn’t even get you if they tried.” He couldn’t really read the look on Harry’s face at his words, but he wasn’t speaking, so Louis kept going. “I can’t do this anymore, Haz. I hate having to hide, I hate having to pretend I’m someone I’m not. Every time I’m out there, all I want is to be with you, but we’re stuck in this vicious cycle and I just want to forget. I want to forget everything.”

“Right, and you think drinking yourself into a coma or smoking till you pass out is the way to do that, hmm?” Harry spat, his voice filled with a venom that Louis had never heard there before. He reached out to touch Harry’s arm, but Harry pulled away, walking into the house and leaving Louis hurrying to keep up.

“Wait, wait. Hold on. So you’re saying that you don’t like my coping method? It’s the only reason I’m still here, Harry,” Louis retorted, closing the door behind him. When he turned to face Harry again, his heart dropped at the look of horror and sheer brokenness on his boyfriend’s face. He hurried forward, realizing what his words had sounded like. “No, no, baby, that’s not what I … you know I love you, right? You’ve got to know that.”

Harry nodded, his beautiful green eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. “Yeah. I know you do. And I love you. But I just … I can’t stay here. I can’t …” Harry choked on his words, and Louis’ chest was tightening with every second that passed, fearing the worst. Harry took a shaky breath and leveled a look at Louis, one of such intensity that Louis had to look away. “I can’t be with you if this is who you are now.”

The silence in the room was loud, so loud that Louis felt suffocated by it. It took a few seconds for him to truly register what Harry was saying, and then he felt his heart break. “W-what? You … you can’t mean that. Harry, please …”

Harry put up a hand to stop him, and Louis fell silent, feeling like his throat was tearing itself apart to keep his sobs inside. “I love Louis Tomlinson, and this person before me … is not the man I fell in love with all those years ago. And I won’t torture myself by watching him slip away more and more every day.”

Harry turned away, and Louis saw that there was already a bag sitting by the door. Harry had known this would happen, he had planned for it, and that just made Louis hurt even more. He practically ran after Harry, his words coming out jumbled and rushed.

“Harry … Haz, no, don’t. We can talk about this. I’m still here, I’m still me. Nothing has changed.”

“But that’s just it, Louis. Everything has changed. We’re older, we’re different people, we deal with what we’ve been dealt in different ways, and I can’t sit back and watch you destroy what’s left of you. I won’t do it.”

Louis found himself reaching for Harry’s wrist, feeling his fingers wrap around the spot where the anchor tattoo was inked into his skin. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Harry walk away from this.

“You can’t go … not after – after everything we’ve been through. We’ve fought too hard for you to give up on us.”

Harry pulled his bag over his shoulder and released himself gently from Louis’ grasp, and Louis just stood there, arms limp at his sides, as Harry opened their front door.

“I’m not giving up. I’m setting myself free. You should do the same.”

He was gone before Louis could say another word, and for a long time after the echo of the front door closing had faded into nothing, Louis stood there, staring at the closed wooden door and letting the truth finally sink in. Harry was gone.

 

*

The fourth shot brought up the memories, and the fifth shot washed them away. Louis felt dizzy, the room going slightly fuzzy as he reached for the bottle, his hand shaking a little. He hadn’t had this much alcohol in so long – he’d become a bit of a lightweight. He took down a sixth and smacked his lips together, the soft lilt of the classical music filling the silence of the empty house. It made Louis feel just a little less lonely, but nothing would ever fill that void completely.

He remembered clearly what had happened after Harry had left him. He’d emptied half the liquor cabinet and then cried hysterically over the phone to Niall until Niall came barging into the house. He’d gotten Louis cleaned up and put to bed, refusing to talk to him until he was sober. Niall was sensible – he knew just as well as Louis that Louis never really could grasp the concept of anything while even the slightest bit buzzed, and Louis had been trashed when Niall had gotten there. They’d talked for hours, and eventually, Louis understood. He’d known all along, of course, that what he was doing wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t going to help him at all, but once he’d started, he’d found it the only way to keep the pain at bay.

But what had once been his solace, his way to get away, caused him more pain, because it was associated with the worst thing that had ever happened to him. So he’d stopped, just like that. He had given all of his alcohol to Niall, whose Irish family was more than happy to take his extra stash off his hands, and he’d thrown away every last pack of cigarettes he could find. His lighters had gone in the trash, other than one to light candles in case of an emergency, and his stash of weed had been given to Zayn, who smoked a lot less frequently than Louis did, but who also didn’t communicate with Louis too much anymore. Louis knew it would be safe in his hands.

Louis looked blearily at the flame of the candle, which was starting to dim slightly. It made the ache in his chest grow, but he refused to look away from it. He deserved this pain, and he was going to force himself to feel every second of it, even if it killed him.

 

*

**~ February 3, 2018 ~**

Louis had been doing so well for so long. He was actually proud of himself, which was something he hadn’t expected during those first few weeks of recovery. But here he was, almost five months clean of alcohol and smoking, and he broke.

Being without Harry was something Louis had never really thought about until it became a reality. It was weird, waking up to an empty bed, or going down to a kitchen that wasn’t filled with the smells of Harry’s amazing cooking, or coming home from a day in the studio to a cold, empty house. What he missed most, besides Harry’s actual presence, however, was the smell of vanilla. Their home had always smelled amazing, comfortable and friendly and familiar. Now, it smelled like day old take-away food and the cleaning supplies Louis busted out every time he thought about going out for a smoke.

After Harry left, and Louis had managed to pick himself up and drag himself out of his depressed state. He started thinking hard, and finally made the decision to get clean and sober - getting rid of what made Harry leave was his first priority. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he got himself together and started being the man Harry remembered, Harry might come back to him.

At least, that’s what he’d told himself, and Niall and Zayn, when giving away all he owned of the stuff that had ruined everything. And he kept that train of thought, even when his mind wouldn’t stop torturing him with reminders of what he’d done and all he wanted was a drink, even when he felt dizzy and considered a cigarette to center himself, or some weed to make it all float away. He kept clean and refused to do otherwise. He would get better. He would become himself again, for Harry. For them.

And now almost five months had come and gone, and Louis hadn’t heard a single word from Harry. According to all the other boys, he hadn’t contacted them either, instead choosing to focus on his solo career, which was booming, considering that he’d just finished up one tour and was starting another. The fact that Harry was MIA with all of them didn’t make Louis feel any better.

He’d broken that night. Five months, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d found an old bottle of bourbon packed away in a cupboard and he’d downed half of it before realizing what he’d done. His hands shaking and his head spinning, Louis had picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d been trying to reach for almost half a year, and for the first time since Harry had walked out their front door, someone answered the phone.

“Louis?”

Louis whimpered at the sound of Harry’s voice. He had almost forgotten how much he loved it … how much he missed it. He sighed and settled on the floor next to the couch, the bottle of bourbon left in the kitchen where he couldn’t see it and couldn’t be tempted.

“Louis, are you there?” Harry’s voice bubbled out of the speaker, and Louis suddenly remembered that he had to speak words if he wanted Harry to listen to him.

“Hazza … m’surprised you picked up … doin’ a pretty bang up job of ignorin’ me, yeah?” Louis said, trying to sound like his usual sarcastic self, but his slurred words and broken voice didn’t really help.

“Are you drunk?” Harry’s voice was resigned, but Louis sensed a bit of an accusatory tone, and he had to set Harry straight.

“Suppose … but I’ve been good for you, Haz. I’ve been soooooooo good. No drinks … no smokes, not even weed … five months without them, all for you. I jus’ couldn’t take it anymore. Missed you too much … wanted it to stop.”

Harry’s voice seemed to soften at his next words, but Louis could have been imagining things. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “You quit?”

“Yeah, tried. Guess I fucked that up tonight, didn’t I? Thought you … you’d come home to me if I … if I wasn’t …” Louis couldn’t finish his sentence, too ashamed of himself in the moment, and he slumped against the side of the couch, tears filling his eyes. Even with the alcohol in his system, it still hurt. Everything hurt. “Just want it to stop hurting, H-Haz. Want it to end.”

“Fuck. Louis, where are you?” Harry’s voice was concerned, but Louis wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t said anything other than the truth.

“M’at home. Our – I mean, my house. Never left, ya see? It’s lonely without you.”

“Don’t leave, okay? I’m … I’m coming home.”

Louis let the phone fall into his lap, a dopey smile spreading across his face, and he said to the empty room, “My boy’s coming home.” That was the last thing he remembered.

When he opened his eyes next, he felt sheets beneath him and something soft covering his bare chest. He didn’t remember taking his shirt off, but he must have … unless …

He sat upright so quickly that his head throbbed, and his stomach rolled, but he took in a few deep breaths to steady himself and then looked up. Harry was there, his Harry, sitting in an old chair that neither of them had wanted to throw away. Louis had kept it in their room because there was no space downstairs, and it had remained empty since Harry had left. But now he was back, snoring softly as his head rested against the side of it. Louis cleared his throat and Harry jolted awake, pushing his hair out of his face. Louis felt a strange mixture of emotions – happiness, because he’d missed Harry more than he could ever say in words, slightly nauseous, though that could have been because of the alcohol, and terror. Harry had refused to even answer a text after he’d left, so if he was here now, it was serious, and Louis wasn’t sure if he could take any more hurt.

Harry stood and walked slowly over, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Louis, and Louis pulled himself up against his headboard, pulling the blanket around him and shivering.

“You’re alright, yeah?” Harry asked finally, and Louis shrugged. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling right now, but having Harry here was good. It made him feel less empty inside. Harry moved closer to him, and Louis could see his bottom lip shaking. “I … I thought you were going to … I just had to make sure you were okay. I should go.”

He stood up to leave, but Louis reached for him, his fingertips just barely catching hold of Harry’s sleeve, and Harry turned back. Louis swallowed, hoping the right words would come out of his mouth when he spoke.

“I, umm … I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry for everything. I did everything wrong for us, didn’t I? I was a fucking idiot and I thought that I could solve my problems by other methods instead of talking to you … I should have talked to you. I should have known that what we had was the best we could get, and I should have been grateful that I had you when I did. I know I can never fix what I broke, but I tried. For so many months, I tried to be the boy you fell in love with, I tried to find myself again, and I did. Well, tonight was a relapse, but I really did try. Please let me try to make things better.”

Louis knew he was babbling, he knew he probably sounded stupid and desperate, but he was just that, and he had to lay it all out on the table for Harry. He had to be completely transparent and honest, and even if that got him a no, it was better than keeping it bottled up.

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head, looking away from Louis. Louis’ chest hurt with the effort of trying not to cry. 

 

“Lou, I … I can’t. Tonight was different, but … I’m not ready. I have to go, I’m sorry.”

 

Louis had no words as Harry picked up his jacket and hurried out of the room, leaving him alone once more. It was only when he heard the front door of the house close that he allowed himself to cry.

 

*

 

Louis felt tears on his cheeks, and he shoved the bottle away, causing it to spill onto the floor. The loss of it made Louis feel nothing. He was too empty to care. He curled up on his side, feeling sick, and stared at the flickering of the candle and letting himself feel the weight of what he’d done. If there was ever a moment where Louis completely despised everything about himself, it was now. He’d ruined everything. There was no going back. 

 

His phone was ringing, but he didn’t have the energy to pick it up. His head was spinning, and he felt like he was seconds away from throwing up. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and swallowed it back down, holding his stomach as though that would make things better. His phone buzzed again and again, but he didn’t check it. He just wanted to be alone. 

 

The flame was sputtering now, almost gone. It was the only thing he had left of Harry now, and when it was gone, Louis felt like his last shred of hope would go with it. In a way, he welcomed that. Harry was what kept him from doing things too unspeakable to think about. Maybe, without  Harry’s light, he could let himself go, let the darkness take him, until he didn’t have to feel anything ever again. 

 

He was almost asleep when he heard a muffled pounding on the front door, He turned his head the other way, so it was facing to the inside of the couch. He didn’t want to watch the flame go out, and he didn’t want whoever was outside to see him in this state. It was probably some kid anyway - who would be calling on him at three in the morning? Who would be calling on him at all?

 

There was a scraping noise of a key in a lock, and the door was thrown open with such force that it banged against the wall. Louis tried to raise his head, but it felt too heavy, too dizzy. He just wanted to sleep and forget.

 

“Louis? Louis, are you here?”

 

Hearing Harry’s voice, Harry’s  _ frantic _ voice, moreover, was enough to grant Louis the strength to raise his head and peer over the back of the couch. Harry’s eyes landed on him and it seemed like all the fight left him in that moment. He fell to his knees, and Louis, alarmed, found himself rolling off the couch and crawling to where Harry sat, his face in his hands. 

 

“Harry, what …” Louis said, clamping a hand on his mouth as he felt his stomach roll again. Harry looked up from his hand and Louis could see that his jewel green eyes were filled with tears, some already rolling over onto his cheeks. The sight made Louis choke on the lump in his own throat. 

 

“I … Niall said you weren’t in a good place today, that you weren’t talking to anyone and you weren’t acting like yourself, and I called - god I called so many times, and you didn’t pick up and I thought …” Harry’s breath hitched as he gasped out his words, and Louis hated himself more. 

 

“M’here,” he mumbled, curling up next to Harry and putting an arm around him. Somehow, the roles had become reversed, and Louis, instead of being cared for, was doing the caring for. It hurt more than he thought it would, and he hated that he was sitting here acting like they were at a place where they could comfort each other. They weren’t, especially after what he’d gotten himself into this very night. 

 

“Thought I’d lost you, Lou,” Harry whispered, so quietly, Louis almost thought he’d imagined it, but he knew he hadn’t. He could feel Harry holding him tighter as he spoke those words. 

 

“H, I drank t’night,” Louis blurted out, feeling tears burning in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t look at Harry. Didn’t want Harry looking at him. He knew all that would be there was disappointment. “Tried not to. But it hurt too much. Had to make it go away.”

 

Louis heard Harry’s breath catch, and he pulled himself away from Louis’ grip. Louis let his arm fall to his side, still refusing to look at Harry. 

 

“Louis … you’ve been doing so well. It’s been almost a year since the last time …” Harry said slowly, and Louis finally got up the courage to look at him. His face was still streaked with two wet lines, and his eyes were sad. 

 

Louis just shook his head, curling in on himself. “Felt so empty. Just wanted it to all go away. Don’t want to hope for something that will never come anymore.”

 

Harry just stared at him, saying nothing, his face giving no emotion other than sadness. Louis didn’t know what to do. He felt like he’d just exposed himself bare for Harry, and Harry had nothing to say?

 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry. For everything. I know I never deserved you, and you shouldn’t have had to suffer through being with me when you could have been free the whole t-time,” Louis stuttered, his eyes hurting from all the tears. “I know you d-don’t want to be here right now. You’re only here b-because you thought I … that I’d … but I could never. I couldn’t hurt you any more than I already have.”

 

Harry’s lip trembled, and he reached forward, cupping Louis’ face in his hands. Louis had to stop himself from sinking into the touch. 

 

“I was coming over anyway. Been thinking about you all the time. Was like a part of my heart was missing. But I couldn’t - I didn’t want to see you like that. It broke me too much. But I … I should have been here, through all of it. I should have stayed. Maybe if I had, things would have been different between us.”

 

Louis shook his head. “You needed to go. I was toxic for you. I’ll never be more sorry about anything in my entire life.”

 

“I … it was a mistake. The hardest decision I ever made, and I had good intentions, I swear I did. I thought maybe time apart would … but I guess I was wrong,” Harry sniffled, but he still held Louis’ face, keeping contact. “There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t wanted to come back to you, Louis. You’re it for me, you always have been. I just wanted you to see the person I saw, the man who is brave and bold and unafraid of higher authority and willing to make tough choices for love. I was worried that you saw yourself as a monster, and that I reminded you of it. I didn’t want to be the reason for your self-destruction.”

 

Louis let out a sob, and Harry wiped his tears away with his thumbs. “I … I always wanted you, Harry. Just you. I never needed anything else. No matter what they threw at us, it was always you that brought me back, reminded me that what we had was enough. And I lost sight of it. And I … I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life trying to make up for what I’ve done.”

 

Harry pulled himself closer, and Louis buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, gripping tightly into his shirt. He could feel Harry shaking as he cried, and Louis was sure he wasn’t in any better position, but right now, being here, with Harry, that was all he needed. 

 

“I want to make this work. I want us to work,” Harry mumbled into Louis’ hair, and Louis just nodded, not wanting to ever let go of him.

 

“Please don’t go. Stay …” Louis whispered, and Harry nodded against the side of Louis’ head. It was then that Louis relaxed, giving himself, broken parts and all, over to Harry, his one and only.

  
  
  


_ So I drown it out like I always do _

_ Dancing through our house with the ghost of you _

_ And I chase it down, with a shot of truth _

_ That my feet don’t dance like they did with you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or comments, both are greatly appreciated.


End file.
